Daisy took one last look around the place she had called home for the past three years, and quietly shut the front door behind her. She kept hold of her keys; she’d not packed everything and she intended to return at some point to pick up the rest of her things, but she wanted to choose a time when she knew Freddie wouldn’t be at home.
At the moment, she never wanted to set eyes on him again.
Car loaded, she drove out of the cul-de-sac and headed towards her mother’s house, feeling totally and utterly dejected. She’d envisioned only ever returning to the family home to sleep on one last occasion – the eve of her wedding. Look at her now, thirty-years-old and running back home to her mother with her tail between her legs.
Not that her mother would be too happy about it, but hopefully she’d not make too much of a fuss, except for giving her the inevitable all-men-are-bastards speech, which Daisy would probably get a double dose of from both her mother and her nan. Though Daisy suspected her nan had been secretly pleased when Daisy had moved out, because it meant she could move right in, which she’d done with all the speed of a greyhound chasing after a mechanical rabbit, and with the same amount of dogged determination.
Three adult women in one house, and all related to each other? It was a recipe for disaster, but she had nowhere else to go. She had some savings, admittedly, but not nearly as much as Freddie thought, and she didn’t want to waste any of it on renting somewhere, not if she wanted to buy a place of her own someday. And she realised just how much she did want that – her own home. Hers. No one else’s.
Throughout their three years of living together, Daisy had always been conscious of the fact the house belonged to Freddie. Not that he had ever rubbed her nose in it, but there were the occasional small remarks, and the odd comment. She didn’t think he knew he was doing it.
Any other daughter would be going back to her mother for tea and sympathy, and hugs, and “there, there, you’ll get over it”. Any other mother would provide lashings of the above, plus kisses on the forehead, and squeezed shoulders, and ruffled hair.
But not Sandra. And not Elsie either.
‘It’s Wednesday,’ her mother said, when Daisy rang the doorbell and walked into a bizarre version of a Christmas grotto. A low-hanging, foil decoration hung in the kitchen doorway, at exactly the right height for slapping her in the face, and the rest of the room was scattered with fairy lights, like Nigella Lawson’s kitchen in her cookery show. Except Nigella had hers strung tastefully on a dresser, not wrapped around the back of the cooker, where it was a fire hazard, or dangling from the cupboards so you couldn’t open the doors properly. Then there was the half-dead poinsettia on the windowsill, and masses of Christmas cards taped to the fridge with hardly a room for a pin between them.
‘I know it’s Wednesday,’ Daisy said.
‘You never visit on Wednesdays. We’re just about to have egg, beans, and chips for tea. There’s not enough for three.’
‘It’s okay, I’m not hungry.’
‘Not hungry? Are you coming down with something?’ Then Sandra’s hand shot to her mouth and she gasped in horror. ‘You’re not pregnant?’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘That’s a relief.’
Yeah, wasn’t it just, considering. Then she bristled, and said, ‘Would it be so bad if I was?’
Her mother gave her a look, the one she always used when she thought the other person was being particularly stupid. Then she spotted what Daisy had left in the hall. ‘What’s with the cases?’ she demanded, eyeing them suspiciously.
Daisy had packed two, and wasn’t really sure what she’d shoved in them. For all she knew, she might have brought her bikini and flip flop collection with her; very useful in December. She’d flung random stuff in, not thinking about what she was doing, just desperate to get out of that house and away from Freddie.
In a tiny voice, Daisy whispered, ‘Can I stay with you for a bit?’
She was greeted with silence. Sandra froze, the oven door half open as she bent to check on the progress of the chips. Her nan paused, butter knife in the air, and both women turned to stare at her, as if in slow motion, their eyes wide and their mouths open.
Was it really so surprising? Relationships broke down every day.
‘I knew it wouldn’t last,’ Sandra declared eventually, turning her attention back to the chips, which were nicely cooking in the oven. The smell of them made Daisy feel slightly nauseous.
‘Did you?’ Daisy said. ‘I didn’t.’
‘I told you all men were bastards,’ her mother declared.
Elsie nodded her agreement, then narrowed her eyes, as a thought occurred to her. ‘You can’t have your room back,’ her nan said, defensively. ‘It’s mine, now.’
Daisy sank wearily onto a kitchen chair. ‘I’ll sleep in the box room,’ she said. ‘If that’s okay?’ she added, to her mother.
‘It’ll have to be, won’t it?’ was the reply. ‘And what do you mean “for a bit”? How long is a bit?’
Daisy shrugged, and her mother let out a long huffy sigh, and exchanged glances with her nan. No sympathy from either of them. At least Daisy hadn’t expected any, so she wasn’t disappointed.
Elsie offered her a slice of bread and butter, and Daisy took it, stuffing it unthinkingly into her mouth, and chewing without tasting, hoping it would relieve the sick feeling.
‘I’ll make us a nice cup of tea after we’ve eaten,’ her nan said. ‘That’ll make everything better.’
No, it won’t, Daisy wanted to say, but her nan’s faith in the power of a “nice cup of tea” was unshakeable, so she let it go.
‘Go on then, what did he do?’ Sandra asked.
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Daisy said. She wasn’t in an emotional place where discussing Freddie’s sexuality was an option. How was she going to break the news that her boyfriend of four years, the man who she’d shared a house with for three of them, was sleeping with another man. It wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to. Apart from the pity, Daisy suspected people would look at her with speculation, wondering what was so wrong with her that it had driven her boyfriend into a man’s arms. ‘Let’s just say, we like different things,’ she said.
‘Rubbish! Liking different things is hardly a reason to come running back home to your mother, is it?’ Sandra said.
‘I thought you didn’t expect it to last,’ Daisy pointed out. ‘What’s with the relationship advice?’
‘If it was something more serious, like he beat you, or he ran off with another woman, that would be a valid reason, not just “liking different things”. We all like different things, especially men. Who likes watching sport for hours on end? Men, that’s who. Who spends hours in the pub after work? Men. You won’t catch many women doing that.’
Okay, now her mother was referring to Daisy’s long-absconded father. Trust Sandra to bring everything back to her. Freddie did watch sport, but only now and again, and he never went to the pub after work. He took clients out to dinner instead.
Or did he? All those times when he said he’d be late, Daisy now suspected was nothing to do with work at all. All those times when she’d heard male voices and laughter on the other end of the phone, and all those times when he’d said he was playing golf with his mates, Daisy now realised it probably hadn’t been golf he’d been playing, though it might well have involved balls of a different kind.
What a cliché. She was the girlfriend sitting obliviously at home, whilst her man was out screwing around. And to think she’d been reassured by all those men she could hear in the background. Freddie had even put one or two of those so-called “mates” on the phone to speak to her.
She’d never felt so stupid.
‘Get back there and kiss and make up,’ Sandra insisted.
‘I can’t.’ Daisy shuddered at the thought of where Freddie’s lips had so recently been. ‘Why are you so keen anyway? I thought you hated men.’
‘Your mother thinks Freddie is one of the better ones,’ her nan interjected. ‘If you’ve gotta have a man (and I can’t see any reason why you would, but that’s just my opinion and no one listens to me), then Freddie is probably as good as it gets. Are you sure he hasn’t hit you, has he, because if he has…’ Elsie waved a meaty fist in the air.
‘No, Nan, he hasn’t hit me.’
‘And he’s not kicked you out because you’ve gotten yourself pregnant?’
‘No, I’ve already said, I’m not pregnant.’
‘It’s gotta be another woman!’ Sandra declared with relish.
‘I can honestly say, there is no other woman involved,’ Daisy replied stoutly.
‘Is it your fault then? Have you been with another man and Freddie found out? Poor bloke, no wonder he threw you out,’ Nan said.
‘I’ve not been with another man,’ Daisy growled through gritted teeth.
Thanks for jumping to conclusions, Nan, Daisy thought, marvelling at how quickly her grandmother could change her tune. The pair of them were like a dire double-tag team. Daisy hoped they’d settle down a bit, once they got used to her being in the house.
‘So you’ve fallen out over nothing,’ Sandra concluded. ‘No doubt you’ll run back to him in a couple of days, but don’t expect to come back here every time you have a tiff.’
Daisy narrowed her eyes. Run to her mother, run back to Freddie… her mother seemed to think Daisy was an Olympic sprinter. She was hardly running; slinking back with her tail between her legs would be a more accurate description.
‘I’ll take my cases upstairs,’ she said, desperate for a couple of hours on her own to wallow in her misery, and to give herself time to try to come to terms with the mess her life had suddenly become.
She had a feeling it was going to take much longer than a couple of hours, as she humped her heavy cases up the stairs, and hesitated outside what had once been her bedroom. Although she knew it was childish and her mother hadn’t had much of an option when Nan had suggested she move herself in (what was her mum supposed to do, say no?) a nasty little part of her wished her mum had refused. This had been Daisy’s home. Once. But now she felt like an unwelcome guest.
It wasn’t her mother’s fault. Daisy realised that Sandra had assumed both her children were settled, with their own homes, and their own partners, and their own lives to lead. She’d not expected either one of them to return to the nest, especially with Daisy being thirty and safely settled with Freddie, and David having his own home (though it came via a hefty mortgage), a good job (if you enjoyed peering into people’s mouths for a living), and a pretty, new wife.
What did Daisy have?
The house she’d lived in with Freddie had belonged solely to Freddie, and Daisy was just beginning to feel the first stirrings of resentment as she considered exactly how much money she had paid towards his mortgage, disguised as “contributing to the finances”, and clearly her partner had never been hers to begin with. The only thing she had going for her, was her job, and Caring Cards wasn’t exactly doing well, according to her colleague, Melissa, who knew everything (how did she do that?).
Sighing, Daisy lugged her case onto the bed, thinking that at least they didn’t have a marriage to dissolve and children to console. Things could be worse, she guessed, struggling to find a silver lining in the storm clouds hovering above her head.
But the reality was, she was thirty, single, and living back at home with her mum.
Her friends, once they found out, would rally round her, but she guessed their sympathy would be heavily laced with pity and the relief that they weren’t in her shoes, and the gossips at work would have a field day. She’d keep them going for weeks, months, even.
She unzipped one of the cases and started to unpack, one slow, reluctant item at a time, realising all she had to show for three cohabiting years were some clothes, shoes and toiletries. Of course, she’d bought things for “their” house, like the smoothie-maker, the scatter cushions, and the pretty art-deco lamp in the living room, but she hadn’t been lying when she’d said she didn’t want any of them. They held too many memories of him, of them, and the life they’d shared.
It had all been an illusion, though, hadn’t it? A lie to conceal Freddie’s sexuality and it had worked until he’d fallen in love.
She had the horrible thought that if he hadn’t met Carl, she and Freddie might have trundled on in this fashion for years, Daisy investing more and more time and emotion in the relationship until her eggs had shrivelled up along with her hope.
Thank goodness she’d been spared that.
She was young enough to start over again with someone else, but did she want to? She feared she didn’t have the stomach to do the dating thing anymore, and that she was destined to live with her mum until she was old and wrinkly and had been adopted by twenty-six cats.
Daisy came to the conclusion she hated her life. This wasn’t what she’d dreamed of when she left school, full of hope and anticipation. Now look at her. Every one of her friends was either married or in a long-term relationship, and most had kids, heck, even her baby brother had gotten himself hitched before she had.
Daisy sniffled into a crumpled tee shirt, feeling very sorry for herself, indeed.
Bracing herself, she took her mobile phone out of her handbag. Time to break the news to Sara. Daisy hated the thought of her best friend hearing about it via the grapevine, and bad news tended to travel fast. She’d leave telling her family for another time, though…
‘Daisy!’ Sara shrieked as soon as she answered the phone. ‘Are you all ready for Christmas? I’ve got you a lush pressie – you’re going to love it!’
Daisy’s heart sank – another thing she’d left at Freddie’s and would have to collect were all the presents she’d bought earlier today. Was it only today? It seemed like much, much longer.
‘I’ve got some news,’ she began hesitantly, but Sara interrupted her before she had a chance to say anything further.
‘Oh my God, are you engaged? That’s fantastic.’ Sara had a fiancé and had spent the last few months, since Andrew had popped the question, dropping huge unsubtle hints that it was about time Daisy joined her in bride-to-be bliss.
‘No,’ Daisy replied shortly. ‘Freddie and I—’
‘You’re not pregnant? Oh, Daisy, that’s fab! When’s it due?’
‘No! Now will you listen?’
‘I’m all ears.’
Daisy took a deep breath. ‘Freddie and I have split up.’
Silence on the other end.
‘Hello?’ Daisy called. ‘Are you still there?’
‘I’m here.’
‘I said—’
‘I heard.’
More silence and Daisy tried to think of a way to tell Sara what had happened. Her friend wasn’t reacting in the way Daisy thought she would. Where was all the sympathy?
‘Is it because he’s finally come out?’ Sara said, after the pause had stretched out for so long Daisy wondered if her friend had rung off.
‘What!’ Daisy shrieked.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s just that—’
‘You knew?’ Daisy was horrified.
‘Sort of. Not really, but Andrew once spotted Freddie in a gay bar and, well… he was with someone.’
‘With someone,’ Daisy repeated flatly.
‘A guy.’
‘What was Andrew doing in a gay bar?’ was all Daisy could think of to say.
‘He was out with friends on a stag do, and they thought Kitty Kats was a strip joint. It was, but not the sort they were expecting.’
‘And Freddie was there?’
‘Yes, I—’
‘With a man?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Kissing and stuff?’
‘Mmm…’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Look, Daisy, I’m sorry. I should have, but how do you tell your best friend that her boyfriend might swing both ways?’
‘You say, “your boyfriend was kissing another bloke”, that’s what you say,’ Daisy stated, anger building in her chest. Had everyone known, except her?
‘You’re right, maybe I should have.’
‘There’s no maybe about it.’ Daisy was firm – Sara should have told her.
‘My only excuse is that I didn’t want to hurt you, and Andrew was half-cut. He could have jumped to the wrong conclusion.’
‘That’s two excuses, and his conclusion was spot on.’
Sara was crying on the other end of the phone. ‘Please don’t hate me,’ she whimpered.
Daisy sighed. ‘I don’t hate you, I just wish you’d told me. How long ago was this?’
‘I don’t know, maybe a year?’
Sara had known for a year and hadn’t said a word. Daisy, despite her anger, admired her friend’s restraint. If Daisy had seen Andrew with another woman, she’d have been straight round to Sara’s to tell her.
Daisy paused. Or would she? She put herself in Sara’s position and tried to imagine how that conversation would pan out – and failed.
Her temper slowly subsided. Freddie wasn’t important enough to risk her friendship with Sara. No man was.
Taking a deep breath, Daisy admitted, ‘I caught him at it with another man.’
‘Aw, love,’ Sara sniffed, and blew her nose loudly.
Daisy held the phone away from her ear.
‘That’s awful,’ Sara said. ‘My heart goes out to you.’
Daisy appreciated the empathy, but she had a sneaking suspicion that her family wouldn’t be quite as sympathetic.